


Ben and the Wonderful Lamp

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-10
Updated: 1999-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser's story told in fairy tale fashion





	Ben and the Wonderful Lamp

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Benton and the wonderful Lamp  
  
  
The characters herein belong to Alliance. The story is mine loosely  
based on  
Aladdin  
 **Rated pg 13** If you do not like fairy stories then steer clear.  
You also need  
to be able to suspend your disbelief for this one !  
Drama humour and romance, yes this story has it all.  
Any comments e mail the author  
  


## Benton and the Wonderful Lamp, A Due South Fairy Tale.

by  
L.C.  
  
Long ago and far away in an arctic country there dwelt a simple  
living  
youth who was blessed with the gifts of generosity, kindness,  
loyalty,  
politeness and wisdom. He was also extremely handsome.  
Living with his  
grandparents on the edge of the tundra, he was often  
alone but not lonely. He  
read books from his grandparents' Travelling  
Library, spent time with the  
hens and huskies and roamed the tundra  
observing the lemmings, siksiks,  
whales, foxes, seals and wolves.  
He knew the difference between a caribou and  
a fox track and could  
identify all the types of berries that ripened in the  
fall: paurngait,  
kablait, kingmiignait. He knew their names and could  
pronounce them  
well. He enjoyed the sounds as he rolled the odd combination  
of  
vowels and consonants around in his mouth. He loved to fish for arctic  
Char with his kakivaak in the icy water. His childhood passed mostly  
without  
incident apart from when, at age six, his mother mysteriously  
died.  
  
  
Our young hero loved reading, and he loved to dream. Each Spring,  
as he  
watched the caribou migrate to the calving grounds, he would  
dream of the warm  
south and the wonders there. During the long arctic  
nights his favourite book  
to read by the fire was about the mounted  
police force. His father was a  
mountie but he rarely saw him. He  
longed for the time when he too could join  
the force and follow in  
the footsteps of the father he admired. To that end  
he studied hard  
and diligently; learnt CPR, gained a St John Ambulance  
certificate  
and took a typing course by correspondence until he was accepted  
as a cadet in Regina. This noble youth could not contain his excitement  
and  
as the time for his departure neared he frantically searched  
the cabin in  
which he lived for articles of his father's uniform.  
He was rewarded when his  
grandma located an old worn Sam Browne belt  
which the cadet to be polished  
lovingly with wax, buffing up the  
buckles till they gleamed. The young man  
squinted at his reflection  
and grinned. Life could only get better. He  
might even receive  
a posting near his father when his training was over.  
  
  
The evening before he was due to leave he had a sleepless night, which  
for  
this active youth, was rare. He was beginning to have misgivings.  
Although  
he was excited, he was also anxious about the changes he  
would face going to  
live in a city after spending so long in small  
places like Inuvik, Alert and  
Tuktoyuktuk. Would his experiences  
in the wilds of the northern territories  
be adequate preparation  
for life in law enforcement in Regina ? He had  
studied the map,  
Sasketchewan seemed so far away from all that was familiar  
to him.  
  
  
It was late evening when the youth stepped down from the train carriage  
in  
Regina, his backpack hanging with all his personal belongings.  
He was  
overwhelmed by the number of people, many of them were young  
men and women  
about to embark on an exciting career. He paused  
on the platform to breathe  
in the warm air. This was going to be  
his home for the next 26 weeks. As he  
jostled his way out of the  
station an older man bumped into him, then grabbed  
him by the shoulders  
and exclaimed,  
  
" It's you.....what are you doing in Regina ? Oh, I expect you  
do not  
recognise your great uncle Jacob. I have been travelling  
throughout the east  
for many years. Have you time for a chat ?  
Tell me how are your  
grandparents ?."  
  
Taken aback the young man was dumbstruck. He did not recognise the man  
at all  
and it was minutes before he found his voice. He tried to  
shrug off the man's  
grip as he answered,  
" I'm sorry I don't remember you. My grandfather passed away 3  
years ago but  
my grandmother is very well. I am about to commence  
cadet training for the  
RCMP."  
  
At this the old man's grey eyes lit up.  
" A mountie eh, very useful. Indeed. You probably want to get  
settled in  
now so meet me on Saturday at the Welcome Bar 2pm. The  
address is on the  
card. we can talk more of family then."  
  
With that he shoved a small card into the youth's pocket and disappeared  
into the crowd before he could thank him. He shook his head, city  
people  
were very strange, and he had never heard his grandparents  
mention a relative  
named Jacob.  
  
  
The young cadet settled in well to the disciplined academy life and,  
although he found it different to life in the far north, he enjoyed the  
rigorous physical training, the lectures, the role playing and the debates.  
It all served to stretch him, emotionally, physically and intellectually.  
He  
was a personable character and made friends quickly with a couple  
of other  
cadets from the Territories. His first Saturday found  
him at 2pm fulfilling  
his promise to meet his great uncle. He was  
cautious about this meeting, he  
was unsure what to expect. He had  
mentioned the man in a letter to his  
grandmother but had yet to receive  
a reply.  
  
Jacob was already seated in the cafe sipping at a strong espresso coffee.  
His great nephew ordered tea and sat opposite waiting for the older man  
to  
speak first.  
  
"I expect you are finding the city strange and crowded."  
The young man  
nodded his reply. "Then I will take you on a  
tour and show you the wonders of  
modern living as soon as you finish  
your drink. "  
  
And so they sat in silence until Jacob paid the bill and they left.  
He  
guided him through the city, pointing out stores and food outlets,  
bars, night  
clubs, used car lots, car parks; all places the northerner  
had rarely seen .  
The cadet was awed by all he saw. They visited  
galleries, museums, even the  
library. All the while Jacob chatted  
as if to a favourite nephew so much the  
youth barely had chance to  
make any contribution. Gradually Jacob led his  
nephew into the suburbs  
pointing out the oddities of modern day living; cars,  
carefully tended  
yards, recycling cans. Before long they were out in the  
countryside  
and on the edge of the forest. The cadet hesitated a little,  
puzzled,  
but Jacob encouraged him,  
  
"I want to show you something wondrous. Gather some sticks for  
a fire, boy."  
  
he did as he was bid, albeit reluctantly, then crouched by the blazing  
fire to  
hear what the old man had to say. Jacob threw some powder  
onto the flames,  
  
"Watch."  
He muttered in a language the youth, who was conversant in Inuit dialects  
as  
well as Cantonese, English and French, did not recognise. Suddenly  
the earth  
shook and a gaping chasm opened close by. The nephew gasped  
in alarm, was he  
dreaming, or was it an earthquake ? Surely Sasketchewan  
was not on a fault  
line. The opening revealed a large stone and  
inset in it was a large brass  
ring.  
  
"Pull up the stone until you see some steps then descend as far  
as the door.  
On the other side of the door you will find a beautiful  
Palace. Pass through  
the first three halls until in the fourth  
you see a lamp hanging in the  
corner. Bring the lamp to me."  
He paused to give him a small ring.  
"Wear this it will keep  
you from harm; it is a family heirloom."  
  
He slipped the ring onto the cadet's finger.  
The young man was curious, none of the books he had ever read had prepared  
him  
for this sort of occurrence. Urban life was certainly promising  
to be very  
different from his isolated childhood. His grandmother  
in her pep talks had  
never mentioned hidden palaces and stones under  
the ground. He shrugged and  
grasped the ring in the stone tightly.  
  
  
The long stone staircase appeared as expected and he cautiously descended.  
He  
then followed the long dimly lit corridor into a hallway full  
of treasures;  
rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Never having been interested  
in material wealth  
he carried on through to a second hall filled  
with gold and silver. This too  
he passed through without a moment's  
hesitation until in the third hall he  
gasped at the sight of a hundred  
shelves filled with books of a thousand  
cultures. His eyes widened  
in pleasure at the sight. Here was knowledge  
beyond his wildest  
dreams. More books than he could read in his lifetime.  
He picked  
one leather bound volume off the first shelf and lowering himself to  
the dusty floor began to read, "I began my travels, where I purpose  
to end  
them, viz. at the city of London........."  
  
  
Time passed unnoticed so absorbed was he in Daniel Defoe's travels, he  
forgot  
the command of his uncle to find the lamp. Outside Jacob  
was waiting  
impatiently, what was the boy doing in there ? He called  
loudly for some  
minutes until on seeing the top of the youth's head  
he called,  
"Give me the lamp now."  
  
The younger man was more astute than one might at first suspect having  
noticed the avaricious glint in Jacob's eyes.  
  
"It is fastened to my belt. Wait till I'm out of here."  
  
He was so weighted down with books that he was having difficulty climbing  
the  
stairs. Jacob flew into a rage and shouted even louder,  
  
"Boy, give me the lamp, now !"  
  
But the cadet was so busy struggling with his load of books he could  
not  
obey. The old man was furious, he threw a handful of powder  
onto the still  
burning fire and intoned some mysterious words. The  
cadet looked up from his  
position on the staircase to see the exit  
from the cave slowly closing. He  
dropped the books and ran the remaining  
few steps to the top and attempted to  
push himself through the crack.  
  
He was not strong enough, it was useless. He sank to the ground and  
suppressed a feeling of panic. This was no worse than when he and Innussiq  
were trapped in a bear cave for two days. Of course then they had with  
them  
water and pemmican and the company of each other. It had been  
quite an  
exciting adventure. This time he was alone and, he searched  
his pockets, no  
supplies worth noting, just his compass, a present  
from his grandma, and the  
tuning fork his mother had left him. Maybe  
there was another way out. With  
this thought to cheer him, the cadet  
leapt up from where he had been slumped  
against the wall and took  
the stairs three at a time until he was at the door  
of the palace.  
His heart sank at the discovery that the door was shut. He  
was a  
prisoner. He sat down again and rested his head in his hands as he  
replayed all the survival techniques he had ever read about through his  
mind.  
None seemed applicable to this situation. Perhaps the old  
man would relent  
and send someone to release him. He shook his head  
at the unlikelihood of  
this possibility. Why had the old man done  
this to him, especially as he had  
shown such kindness in giving him  
a ring? As these thoughts passed through  
his head he unconsciously  
rubbed the gold ring on his finger. There was a  
flash of light which  
temporarily blinded him.  
  
When his vision finally cleared he saw before him the strangest creature.  
It  
was perhaps, five metres tall, (the boy could not be precise  
as the  
apparition was hovering in the air) had the build of a sumo  
wresler, was  
completely hairless and magnificently bejewelled. The  
monster seemed as  
bemused as he was. It looked around the cave then  
turned its gaze downwards  
to where our hero looked up with confidence.  
  
" I am the slave of the ring," it intoned melodiously. "Whatever  
you bid, I  
will obey."  
  
The cadet could hardly believe his luck. He pinched himself sharply  
to make  
sure he was still awake. Yes all this was real enough.   
Running a tongue  
along his dry lips he slowly and questioningly replied,  
  
"Take me out of here, back to the woods, please...sir."  
  
The huge man lifted him up very gently and flew up through the stonework  
to  
where he deposited him on the grassy floor close to where the  
stone had been  
and where the fire had died to a warm glowing mound  
of embers. Straightening  
his uniform the youth turned to kindly  
thank his benefactor only to discover  
he had silently vanished.   
He would have dismissed it all as a remarkable  
dream were it not  
for the small old lamp hanging from his belt and the gold  
ring still  
on his finger.  
  
  
He made his way back to the city through the dark and quiet streets until  
he  
reached his barracks just before dawn. Sliding exhausted into  
his small  
mountie bed he fell asleep without even having the strength  
to remove his  
clothes.  
  
  
The following Monday he was unsurprised to learn in a letter from his  
grandmother that there had never been anyone in the family called Jacob.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
It was many years later that Benton Fraser RCMP had cause  
to  
recall the strange occurrences of his first week as a Cadet.   
He still had the  
lamp, it went with him on every posting. The ring  
he had buried outside his  
father's cabin, judging it far too dangerous  
an item to have around. He kept  
the lamp as a memory of a strange  
event, lest it should fade into a dream..  
As he had grown older he  
had become accustomed to the unusual, he often saw  
things others  
couldn't, hear things not audible to the ears of his fellow  
mounties.  
And, he was also aware that he could jump further, climb higher,  
fall greater distances, survive lower temperatures, hold his breath longer  
than any one else he knew. Activities that could seriously maim or kill  
other  
men left him unharmed. He seemed to lead a charmed existence.  
Charmed that  
is in all areas except personal relationships with women.  
His one serious  
love affair had ended in a complete disaster. He  
frequently wished for better  
judgement in his choice of women. Somewhere,  
he felt, there was a woman he  
could love cherish and trust without  
being hurt, but he was afraid to get  
involved. Victoria had done  
that to him, damaged him, possibly beyond  
repair.  
  
So here he was in his mid thirties standing guard outside the Canadian  
Consulate in Chicago, no family, exiled from his homeland and only one  
true  
friend in the world apart from his wolf, contemplating the loneliness  
of his  
existence, and at last, questioning it too. His mind wandered  
(as it often  
seemed to these days when he was standing stiffly at  
attention trying to  
ignore the stares of tourists, or the unwanted  
attention of Chicago's youngest  
generation) to his superior officer,  
Margaret Thatcher. She puzzled him. She  
set him the most demeaning  
tasks imaginable yet he was unable to resent her.  
He had noticed  
that if he stared very hard into her beautiful eyes she would  
look  
away, and he was frequently catching her in the act of whipping her  
glasses off her nose. Very strange behaviour indeed. He was aware  
that  
there was an attraction but was unsure if she would return his  
affections. He  
was finding it very difficult to fathom the motivations  
of women. Of this one  
woman.  
  
His one attempt to ask his father's advice had been fruitless, Fraser  
senior had even less experience than his son. Even his relationship with  
Caroline had been odd. As Benton had recently discovered, his father  
had often  
slept with the dogs. Maybe he should try and get to know  
her better. Ask  
her out for a meal. No he couldn't do that. Since  
his apartment had burnt  
down he had been living at the consulate  
and the cooking facilities therein  
were less than adequate. Maybe  
he could take her to a picture ? No, he  
shrugged then rubbed his  
finger along his eyebrow, an idiosyncrasy of his  
adopted whenever  
anything puzzled him. How could he get closer to this woman  
? In  
the absence of fatherly advice who could he turn to ? Certainly not  
Ray who just pined after his ex wife and whose chat up lines left a  
lot to be  
desired too. He let his mind wander, to a tree opposite  
which was in blossom,  
an acer negundo, if he was not mistaken. There  
was a bird visible in the  
branches, possibly a sparrow hopping from  
twig to twig. How Benton envied  
that bird its uncomplicated life.  
What decisions did birds have to make ?  
They never felt loneliness;  
the need for companionship did not figure in  
sparrow psychology.  
He sighed, you're getting maudlin, Benton. Count your  
blessings.  
  
One: good health.  
  
Two; a fulfilling career.  
  
Three; ..............three, an old lamp on the window ledge.  
Now why did he think of that lamp after all this time ? One of the  
few  
things he had managed to rescue from the embers of his immolated  
former home  
had been that lamp. It was battered and tarnished and  
dulled by smoke and  
flames but he had resisted polishing it for fear  
of conjuring the genie. He  
had done that accidentally soon after  
he had acquired it and had felt  
compelled to wish for something,  
anything to soothe the doleful look on the  
genie's face when it had  
witnessed its new master. If he remembered  
correctly, the creature  
had wept when Benton told it he had no desires. To  
appease it he  
had wished to be the best of the Mounted: strong, honest and  
valiant.  
He recalled now that the genie had told him that whenever he wore  
the mountie's Stetson he would be invulnerable and would be able to fulfil  
his  
mountie duties in an unparalleled manner. Now why had he forgotten  
that until  
now ? The price he had paid for that protection had been  
to live a life of  
loneliness. Worse still, he had only just realised  
that he was lonely. If  
he wasn't careful he was going to be the  
last of a breed in several ways.  
  
  
Resolution gripped Benton with an implacable hand and would not let  
go. He  
had made up his mind. He would march up to her office,  
walk confidently in  
and invite her out to a restaurant of her choosing.  
He could do this. He  
was a mountie. The chiming of the church bell  
interrupted his thoughts, his  
shift was at an end. Was his resolution  
beginning to falter ? He entered  
the building and climbed the stairs.  
They seemed high to Benton who had also  
become aware of a coldness  
in his stomach. He was unable to locate the source  
of his fear as  
he stood trembling outside her door. Why was this so difficult  
?  
She was only a woman after all, he had faced worse especially since teaming  
up with Ray. Yes, that was it, she was a woman and she was his superior  
officer too. He let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned back  
to his  
own room. He was disappointed in himself, he felt he had  
let himself down.  
This was a time to seek out his father. Benton  
hoped the elder mountie would  
be there in the tardis like extension  
to his room, and thankfully he was.  
  
"Try the lamp son "  
  
"Dad, what on earth do you mean ?"  
  
"I mean get that genie to give you a more.................. "  
Fraser Senior  
waved a hand as he searched for a tactful word,"winning  
way with women. Rub  
the lamp!"  
  
With that he returned to the books he referred to as his "accounts"  
though  
Benton had yet to figure out what need a dead mountie had  
of money. If his  
father was to be believed the afterlife was certainly  
nothing like any of the  
major religions would have us think.  
  
Fraser picked up the lamp from its resting place against the window.  
He  
studied it for a moment as he tried to put off the inevitable.  
He was not  
used to stalling, he would have to just do it, rub the  
thing and get it over  
with, like pulling off a plaster from a sensitive  
area. He shuddered as he  
gave the dull metal a tentative rub.  
  
It was just as horrendous an experience as he'd anticipated. A huge  
puff of  
acrid smoke erupted from the spout sending Benton into a  
coughing spasm as his  
pristine lungs tried to cope with the polluted  
air. His eyes watered and the  
momentary blindness he suffered as  
a result of the blinding flash of white  
light that followed was a  
mercy. It meant that the Mountie was spared the  
repulsive sight  
of a huge genie squeezing itself clumsily out of the narrow  
confines  
of its prison. He was also coughing too much to notice the sickening  
moans and groans issuing from the creature's distorted mouth. By the  
time  
Fraser's vision and lungs had cleared the genie had regained  
a respectable  
appearance and was straightening its crumpled clothes  
as best it could under  
the circumstances.  
  
It raised a massive ringed jewelled hand to its mouth, cleared its throat,  
and  
began in a sonorous voice its well rehearsed recitation.  
  
"IamthegenieofthelampIamyourslaveandwilldoanythingyoubidmaster."  
With that he whisked off a feathered turban and bowed very low.  
Benton was  
too stunned to answer straight away so the genie raised  
its head from its  
respectful bow and waited expectantly for its master's  
command. Its master was  
suffering from a blank mind at that moment.  
When his power of speech returned  
several minutes later, Benton replied.  
  
"I would like to have a ......." how had his father put it  
? "A winning way  
with women. Well with Margaret really. Yes  
just with her, with Margaret."  
  
"Is that all ?" boomed the genie, disappointed.  
  
"Yes, thankyou kindly......er........sir."  
  
"You are really not experienced at this master thing are you?"  
Impossible as it may seem the genie's voice had got even louder.  
Benton put  
his hands over his ears, fearing a migraine.  
  
"Understood." he replied not knowing what else to say. The  
genie was  
obviously disappointed in him. Again.  
  
"No wealth beyond your wildest dreams ? No harem of gorgeous princesses  
? No  
emerald clad palaces ? No magic carpet ? No huge tables groaning  
under the  
weight of a banquet so vast it could feed a small African  
nation for six years  
?"  
  
Fraser shook his head and wished the genie would give him the winning  
ways and  
get back in its lamp.  
  
"Your wish is my command.........master."  
  
Benton was sure that last word had been said in a disdainful tone.  
Nevertheless he thanked the genie kindly once more as it diminished in  
size  
and returned through the spout into the lamp.  
  
Fraser took a deep breath and tugged his uniform into place. He looked  
in a  
mirror to check there were no hairs out of place and straightened  
his Sam  
Browne Belt.  
  
"Do I feel different ?" He asked himself as he searched his  
drawers for some  
cologne. When would these "winning ways"  
manifest themselves ? And how would  
he recognise them when they  
did ?  
  
He shrugged carelessly.  
Who cares ? I have to talk to Margaret. I have to make her an offer  
she  
cannot refuse.  
  
  
  
"Come in,"  
Margaret responded in her usual gruff manner to the strong knock at  
her door.  
She did not look up from her paper work as the visitor  
entered.  
  
"Yes?" she welcomed in a sharp tone.  
  
"Sir,"  
a confident deep voice replied compelling her to drop the pen, whip  
off her  
glasses and look up into the most beautiful blue eyes she  
had ever seen on any  
human being. She cleared her throat aware that  
she was reddening. Before  
she could get in a barbed retort he continued,  
"I am aware that there is an attraction between us which I am sure  
has not  
gone unnoticed by you. So I am asking you to accompany me  
to dinner this  
evening at a restaurant of your choice. We can share  
the cost if you wish. I  
am quite happy to phone round a few restaurants  
to get samples of their menus  
if you would prefer."  
  
Margaret was unable to repress a snicker. What had come over the tongue  
tied  
mountie ? The man who could not hold a coherent conversation  
with any woman  
who made a pass at him ? She sobered up as she remembered  
that she had waited  
for this moment for months. As his superior  
officer she had felt unable to  
make the first move. It had become  
a stand off. He was too shy to make the  
first move himself and so  
their relationship had stagnated. Who was she  
kidding, there was  
no relationship. And now this.  
  
"Sir?" his voice begged a response. "Should I book a  
table for eight PM ?."  
  
There was only one answer and she gave it. "Yes, constable. Eight  
will be  
fine and I leave the choice to you."  
  
Still totally bemused she watched as he gave her a jaunty salute, turned  
on  
his heel and marched to the door where he paused to give her a  
parting shot:  
  
"By the way, although Dorothy Parker maintained that men don't make  
passes at  
girls who wear glasses, believe me, yours only add to your  
allure."  
  
With that he closed the door with a flourish. Margaret stared down  
at the  
articles in question and realised that she had twisted them  
into a mangled  
piece of metal. He really liked her glasses ? She  
hoped she could find her  
spare pair at home. Too stunned to continue  
her work she merely sat for  
twenty minutes lost in thought. Had  
the mountie really asked her out on a  
date ? What had come over  
him ? What on earth was she going to wear ?  
  
  
Despite her fears that Benton would become tongue tied at the meal or  
that  
the evening would in some way turn into an utter disaster, Margaret  
found  
herself having a wonderful time. Fraser was witty, charming,  
attentive and  
even flirtatious. The man truly had hidden depths.  
As the meal progressed  
they relaxed in each others company till  
by dessert they were content to  
remain silent and just gaze into  
each others eyes and wonder. She even  
managed to forget that he  
was her inferior for long enough to share a tender  
goodnight kiss  
when he walked her to her door. Watching him go was  
difficult,  
she only just managed to resist calling to his retreating  
back,"Don't  
go, stay with me." But years of training were too hard to  
overcome  
and so she went to bed alone.  
  
  
As we are told, the path of true love does not run smooth, but for Benton  
and  
Margaret the first hurdle had been overcome and they came to  
care even more  
about each other. Margaret was continually amazed  
at Fraser's new found  
confidence. She even managed to persuade him  
to move in with her though she  
could not stop him from sleeping   
in his bedroll on the floor. He found her  
luxurious water bed far  
too soft and warm. Loathe though she was to admit  
it, the red long  
johns really suited him. She could almost consider getting  
some  
for herself. She also had to accommodate Diefenbaker in her house but  
considered that a small sacrifice. After all she had gained the most  
desirable man in Chicago. That was worth the dog hairs, the wolverine  
smell  
and the early morning runs. In fact she was amazed at how  
easily she managed  
to fit her schedule around them both. If one  
thing marred her happiness it  
was the regret that they had not followed  
their instincts sooner. Through  
pride and foolishness they had lost  
valuable time in each other's company and  
her biological clock was  
ticking faster very day.  
  
  
The days passed blissfully into weeks for the two lovers, they were  
inseparable. On guard duty Benton thought only of Meg, impatiently counting  
the seconds until his shift ended. Margaret spent too much time at her  
window, trying to get a glimpse of red serge. When the pressure got  
too bad  
she would invent an errand for herself so that she could  
leave the building  
and just stand and admire her beloved tall, black  
haired, well proportioned  
mountie.  
The weeks turned into months and Margaret found herself pregnant, Benton  
was  
delighted.  
Their happiness complete, life just could not get better.  
However it could get worse.  
  
  
  
Constable Turnbull was standing guard duty outside the new consulate.  
It had  
not yet occurred to him that over the past 6 months his guard  
duties had  
increased quite significantly. In fact all of his duties  
had increased as The  
Inspector had passed a lot of Fraser's menial  
tasks on to Turnbull allowing  
her favourite mountie more time to  
spend helping her with hers. He hummed to  
himself tunelessly as  
the blankness in his mind extended itself into a greater  
area of  
nothingness. Life for Turnbull was incredibly simple, operating, as  
he did at the level of a dyslexic seven year old. However, on this day  
it was  
going to take a dramatic turn.  
  
Jacob had finally tracked Benton Fraser to Chicago. After the episode  
at  
Regina he had fled back to the east and toured Asia for a while,  
taking the  
Kathmandu trail, climbing the Himalayas, walking the Great  
Wall of China,  
visiting the Dali Lama then onto India to see the  
Taj Mahal. For most people  
these experiences would help them develop  
spiritually. Jacob, however, had  
sunk far too deep into the pit  
of avarice to ever be redeemed by pilgrimages  
and areas of outstanding  
natural beauty.  
  
As he travelled his grudge against his ersatz great nephew festered  
like a  
picked scab. Had he really perished in the underground cave  
? The old man  
had to find out for sure, because if Benton had escaped  
he would be in  
possession of one of the greatest treasures in the  
world. And by rights, that  
lamp and all it promised, should belong  
to him, not to some simple Mountie  
from the arctic wilderness, a  
nobody from nowhere. A boy like that had no  
imagination, no idea  
how to use such a gift. Jacob extrapolated further: if  
the boy had  
escaped then he couldn't possibly have discovered the secret of  
the  
lamp. Wherever he travelled, Jacob always searched out the financial  
papers and as yet Fraser's name had not appeared in the list of the  
world's  
hundred richest men.  
  
  
So Jacob returned to Canada after seventeen years, looked up the records  
at  
the Library in Regina, traced Benton's first posting, then from  
there by way  
of newspaper articles about Gerard discovered that his  
nephew was exiled in  
Chicago. Alone and vulnerable. A perfect opportunity  
for the perfect plan.  
  
  
After checking in at a hotel close to the Consulate he visited all the  
flea  
markets and antique shops in the city and bought up all the  
old lamps. He  
polished them up till they gleamed like new then placed  
them all in a large  
sports holdall. He was a patient man and knew  
that it could take several  
days for his plan to unfold.  
Each morning and each afternoon he walked past the Consulate chanting,  
"New  
lamps for old, new lamps for old."  
Small children would halt their game of aiming spitballs at the Mountie's  
buttons to cluster round him and jeer. Tourists would stop photographing  
the  
Mountie and ask to photograph him instead. On one occasion he  
was even asked  
to stand with the Mountie for the perfect photo opportunity.  
And for Jacob,  
opportune indeed, in that it gave him the chance to  
determine if this fellow  
was the Mountie he sought. He was disappointed  
to discover that it was not  
Fraser who stood guard every day, this  
meant that he must be inside the  
consulate and possibly unable to  
hear him.  
  
  
Turnbull, however, after four days of hearing the phrase, "new lamps  
for old,"  
recalled in a moment of uncharacteristic lucidity,  
that there rested on the  
Consulate window sill a very old dirty tarnished  
lamp. He believed it  
belonged to Fraser who was in the Yukon on  
a brief exchange visit. It struck  
him that he would be doing the  
constable a great favour if he swapped the old  
lamp for a nice shiny  
new one. Turnbull smiled at the thought. Any thought  
was a rare  
delight for him. As soon as his shift ended he called to the old  
peddlar who had for some ten minutes been trying to disengage himself  
from a  
group of youths who wanted his Sport's Holdall because it  
had a designer  
insignia on the side of it.  
  
"Excuse me, sir." Turnbull said as the youths fled clutching  
the bag and  
leaving a trail of dented lamps in their wake.  
  
"There is a rusty old lamp in the consulate. You can have that  
if you give me  
a new one. "  
  
Jacob almost did a celebratory dance so pleased was he to hear this.  
"Well  
hurry up boy, get it."  
  
Jacob busied himself picking up the lamps and sorting through them for  
one in  
decent condition. He was so excited his hands shook and his  
fingers could  
hardly grip. He sat on the edge of the curb and contemplated  
his first wish.  
After considering several options he decided, maliciously,  
that his first wish  
would be to ruin Fraser by undoing the Mountie's  
wishes. That would teach the  
boy to disobey him. Ah revenge was  
going to be so sweet. He shook his head  
and smiled at the thought.  
Turnbull returned with the lamp in record time.  
  
"Here it is," he panted, breathless through his exertions,  
"Fraser will be  
so pleased with me when he gets back."  
  
The old man was not listening, he grabbed the lamp, threw a newer one  
at  
Turnbull and hastened back to his hotel room. Turnbull stood  
on the deserted  
sidewalk clutching the shiny lamp, a vacant look  
on his face. Then he turned  
on his heel and returned to the interior  
of the consulate unaware of the  
consequences of his foolish actions.  
  
  
A week after Jacob had left Chicago for a life of wealth and fame beyond  
his  
wildest dreams, Benton returned to Chicago from his successful  
exchange in the  
north where he had helped bust a fraudulent used  
skidoo sales team He went  
straight by foot to the apartment he  
now shared with Margaret, a spring in his  
step. He was looking forward  
to seeing how well developed her bump would be  
now, he wanted to  
feel the wriggling baby as he pressed his hand over her  
womb. He  
would play it a Stan Rogers tape he had picked up in Canada. Music  
was instrumental in forming strong brain cell patterns in the unborn  
and what  
better than a good stirring sea shanty or two. His favorite  
was Barrett's  
Privateers. It reminded him of a romantic moment on  
the Bounty replica when  
time had stood still and he had shared a  
most tender kiss with his  
Margaret. His Margaret. How he had missed  
her, every night away he had  
fallen asleep feeling her absence acutely.  
The Yukon had never before felt so  
cold to him. He was accustomed  
to being alone, he had never sought to live  
with others. But he  
did enjoy company, he was not really a loner by nature.  
He used to  
really enjoy his meals at Ray Vecchio's house, the loving, noisy  
Italian family. He always felt alive with them, they had shown him the  
rewards of being part of a close family. They had such a vibrancy generated  
by family ties. He still missed Ray very much.  
  
  
Now he had felt for himself the true rewards of companionship with Ray,  
with  
Stan and with Meg he was loathe to give them up and return to  
that solitary  
existence he had led for so long. After the "affair"  
with the bounty hunter  
he had realised that he needed to share his  
life with a special person,  
someone who could give him children,  
someone who would love him and whom he  
could love. Someone who  
would keep the loneliness at bay. This  
relationship with the Inspector  
was wonderful, he could hardly believe his  
luck, he loved her with  
all of his big mountie heart. He loved her with a  
capacity he never  
realised he had. And the best thing about his life at the  
moment  
was that she loved him.  
  
  
Whistling the shanty loudly he ran up the steps two at a time and opened  
the  
apartment door,  
"Meg, I'm back." He was greeted by Dief bounding up to him,  
almost knocking  
him over in lupine enthusiasm.  
Benton rubbed the wolf behind its ears, "Hey, boy, did you miss  
me?"  
  
But his mindwas not on Diefenbaker, he looked down the hallway searching  
for his love,  
"Margaret? Meg?" he called again.  
  
There was silence in the apartment apart from the panting of the wolf.  
Why  
was she not here to greet him ? Had something happened? He  
felt cold, a  
shiver ran through him. Had something happened to the  
baby ? He shrugged  
out of his rucksack and ran to the bedroom.  
He peered cautiously round the  
door, the room was empty. Benton  
frowned, he was aware now of a growing sense  
of unease. She promised  
him she would be home when he last talked to her on  
the phone. That  
was four days ago. A lot could happen in four days. He  
picked up  
the phone and dialled her mobile, and let out the breath he had been  
holding when she answered it with a terse  
"Yes?"  
"Margaret, where are you, I have been so worried, are you all  
right ?"  
  
Her tone when she answered was hard.  
"Constable, yes, I am fine, thankyou. I am at the consulate, working.  
I  
expect to see you here this afternoon ready to work your shift."  
  
Taken aback at her remote attitude, Fraser could only reply,"Yes  
Sir," and  
stare at the receiver as the line went dead. Again  
he felt a cold shiver  
cross his spine. Something was wrong. He  
crouched down next to the ever  
loyal Diefenbaker,  
"Hey, Dief, do you know what is going on ?"  
  
Benton stood up, stretched and stifled a yawn, it had been a long journey  
and  
he had slept badly, now she expected him to go to work. Hadn't  
they agreed to  
spend this afternoon together, relaxing at home?   
She ought to be taking it  
easy at this stage of her pregnancy. He  
put his Stan Rogers tape on the  
player and sang along with it as  
he unpacked. He always found singing  
therapeutic and by the time  
he had changed into his brown uniform he felt a  
little less worried.  
  
  
When Fraser arrived at the Consulate at 12.58pm his uneasiness returned.  
In  
fact the thought of facing the Inspector was causing him a great  
deal of  
concern. He had to wipe his hands on his trousers becuse  
they were so damp  
with sweat. Why did he feel so nervous ? It had  
been months since he had  
felt like this. In order to steel himself  
he sang a few bars of Barrett's  
Privateers. It helped, but only  
a little. He went straight to his own office  
and sat down at his  
desk. There was a post it note, with her bold handwriting  
on it.  
"My office 1.15pm." he fondled the note, she wanted him in  
her  
office. What could that mean ? Perhaps his father could help.  
Sure, he  
hadn't been  
much help last time, but it was worth a try. If nothing else it would  
make  
the next fifteen minutes pass less miserably.  
  
"Hello, son," Fraser Senior greeted him. He was wearing a  
parka, complete  
with furry hood, thick trousers, boots and snow shoes.  
  
"Dad, it's 30 degrees outside, can't you feel the heat ?"  
  
"Is it son ? You feel the cold more when you get older."  
  
"But you aren't getting older, you are dead. "  
Why was his father so exasperating?  
  
"Besides I want to talk about my problems, not yours. Do things  
seem  
different ?"  
  
"Oh most definitely. But I would put it all down to global warming."  
  
Benton folded his arms and scowled at his father's apparition. These  
conversations were becoming more and more bizarre. Was it some feature  
of the  
afterlife that any sense you might once have had slowly dissipates  
? He waved  
a hand at Fraser Senior.  
  
"As usual you are making no sense whatsoever. I don't know why  
I ever bother  
trying to hold a coherent conversation with you. I  
have serious concerns here  
and all you can talk about is the weather.  
"  
  
Benton left the closet and tried to calm himself. He sat down in his  
chair,  
consulted his father's watch, five minutes to go, and began  
his mantra,  
"I am a mountie, I can do this. " He repeated  
it fifty times then took a deep  
breath and went to Margaret's, the  
Inspector's door.  
  
  
Five minutes later he was sitting in his chair again, head in hands conscious  
that things had gone very badly indeed. He had been totally unable to  
talk to  
her, he had stammered and stuttered and had heard hardly  
anything she had said  
apart from, "dismissed," to which  
he had automatically replied, "Understood."  
Then he had  
fled to his room. He felt like his world had come to an end; he  
had lost her. At the end of his shift he would collect his belongings  
and  
Dief from her home and move back into the Consulate. His father  
was here, he  
wouldn't be that much alone. But it wasn't home, Meg's  
apartment was home.  
Yet, he couldn't stay there any more, he couldn't  
even talk to her, how could  
he be expected to share a bed with her  
?  
Life had been going so well, why had things changed ? Why had he changed  
?  
Why had hope died ? He wasn't very much aware of time passing,  
he just  
stared unfocussed at his door until his body clock told him  
his shift had  
ended. He removed his Stetson from its hook, stared  
at it a moment before  
placing it on his head with a sigh. He would  
just devote himself to his  
mountie duties since he obviously was  
not meant to find happiness with women.  
  
  
  
Meg sat in her office totally bemused. She had had quite an exhausting  
week,  
been called into the consulate on an emergency despite a resolution  
to take it  
easy. She could feel her hormones raging, her legs ached  
and the baby was  
practising trampolining off her diaphragm with upsetting  
regularity. She had  
not been able to get comfortable in bed since  
Benton had gone away. She'd got  
used to him rubbing her back to  
relax her into sleep. He had a wonderful  
touch and knew exactly  
which muscles to work. Without him life was miserable.  
He had stopped  
her feeling unglamorous as the baby took away her trim figure,  
with  
his constant reassurances and professions of love.  
  
So what had gone wrong ? This morning she had been excited at his  
return.  
Yet for some reason she had felt compelled to come into work  
today even  
though they had intended to relax at home together. Then  
she had lost her  
temper with him over the phone, well that could  
be a pregnancy mood swing.  
Now he had spent five minutes in her office  
and not said one word that made  
sense. Oh except for "understood"  
and she didn't even think that he had.  
Understood a word she'd said  
that is. In fact now she had chance to reflect  
she couldn't remember  
herself what she had said to him. She just knew now  
that their relationship  
had changed. They were no longer one. He couldn't  
even talk to  
her, how was he going to share a bed with her ?  
  
Life had been going so well. What had changed ? She wasn't very much  
aware  
of time passing, she just stared at the door, unfocussed until  
she heard him  
shut his door and leave the building. She then became  
aware that she had  
been crying, a steady stream of tears. She sighed.  
She would just have to  
devote herself to her mountie duties till  
the baby came. At least one good  
thing had come out of this doomed  
relationship, their son.  
*********************************************************************  
  
  
Margaret came home that evening to an empty apartment and a short note  
from  
Fraser telling her how sorry he was that things weren't working  
out, that he  
would support the baby when it came and if possible  
would attend the birth.  
He thanked her kindly for letting him stay  
with her and hoped that they could  
carry on as normal with their  
professional relationship. It was typically  
Benton and it made her  
weep. She tried to recall the moment that things had  
taken the  
wrong turn. She could not locate the word or action that had made  
him feel rejected by her. Before he went away they were lovers, when  
he  
returned they weren't. Her life was a disaster. She could  
not even be sure  
if she loved him any longer, she did feel a great  
sense of loss. She thought  
she did love him, she knew she had,   
but she was unwilling to contact him and  
ask him to come back to  
her. Worst of all she did not know why she was  
feeling this way.  
Maybe it was her hormones. That was one convenient aspect  
of being  
pregnant; you could use hormones to explain many things.  
  
  
She wandered absently through her rooms touching the table where they  
had  
eaten together, stroking the sofa where they had sat, then into  
the bathroom  
where she picked up her now solitary toothbrush and  
cleaned her teeth. All  
his toilet articles were gone; that cut throat  
blade he shaved with, the  
harsh mountie issue soap she had never  
managed to wean him off, his face  
cloth, his towel, his robe: all  
gone. Leaving the bathroom, she lay down  
on the floor next to  
the bed where he had unrolled his bedroll every night.  
Her rooms  
smelt of him, they smelt of wolf too. Closing her eyes conjured up  
the image of a smiling Fraser in red long johns holding her hand, kissing  
her  
lips, whispering secret promises of love. And so she fell  
into a restless  
sleep on the uncomfortable floor of her lonely bedroom.  
  
  
Benton Fraser unrolled his bedroll and flung himself wearily upon it.  
He  
folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ornate ceiling  
of his room  
in the consulate. Why had he left her ? He seemed to  
be doing things  
automatically that in retrospect seemed ludicrous,  
well childish even.  
Heought to have stayed. After all that was his  
baby she was carrying and that  
should mean a lot to him. A family,  
a future for him. he recalled Janet and  
her three children who had  
slept right here a few months ago. Seeing them  
had brought a  
pang of regret to his heart. The missed opportunities had  
pained  
him. He liked children; he'd wished those children were his. Soon  
he would be a father and he had bungled any chance to be part of a family.  
It did not occur to him as he lay there alone in the large official building,  
that he could go to her and apologise and be accepted. These decisions  
were  
out of his control. Furthermore, he was not yet aware that  
his charmed  
existence was also at risk, for Jacob (at that moment  
surfing in a far away  
Pacific sea) had not only undone his wish  
to have a "winning way with  
Margaret," but also his wish  
to be the "best of the Mounted: strong and  
valiant."  
  
  
Stanley Raymond Kowalski sat at his desk at the 27th Chicago Division  
and  
twiddled his thumbs. He then put his booted feet up on the desk  
and crossed  
them at the ankles, clasped his hands around his head  
and leaned back yawning.  
How he hated paperwork. His pile of pending  
reports was now six inches high  
and he just did not know which one  
to tackle first. So he decided not to even  
make the attempt. Life  
in the bullpen had been a little dull since Fraser  
had gone to the  
Yukon. Even before then his visits had diminished in  
frequency as  
he had been attending Parenting classes and spending a lot of his  
free time with the Ice Queen. Ray couldn't find it in himself to be  
jealous,  
a little envious perhaps, but he admitted that it was about  
time Fraser had  
some luck with women. Yeah, Ray was pleased for  
the guy. A deep voice  
interrupted his thoughts,  
  
"You know, Ray, you really shouldn't rock back on your chair like  
that. You  
could fall off. Remember 'Four legs good, two legs bad,"  
  
Ray was so startled that he very nearly did fall off his chair.  
  
"Fraser!" he exclaimed as he clumsily regained his balance.  
"You're back,  
then ?"  
  
"Evidently," Fraser smiled wryly.  
  
"So how was it in the frozen north Yukon Territories?" Ray  
stood as he spoke  
and began to walk towards the door. Fraser followed.  
  
"Territory, Ray, and it was fine, just fine."  
  
The sadness in his friend's voice did not escape Ray,  
"Well you sure don't sound fine. Let's eat and you can tell me  
what's  
bugging you."  
  
Benton consulted his watch, "But it's not lunchtime......."  
  
"Oh who cares, I'm outta here." Ray pushed his friend out  
of the building and  
they walked in silence to a diner.  
  
  
Ray ordered for both of them and let Benton know how dull things had  
been in  
his absence,  
"You just seem to attract adventures, I don't know how you do it.  
And I was  
starting to miss all the excitement. "  
  
"I'm sorry about that Ray," was all the mountie could think  
of to reply.  
  
His mind was distracted. He could not stop thinking about Margaret.  
Ray soon  
realised that Fraser was not going to tell him what was  
wrong with him so he  
gave up and started to eat his fries. He was  
halfway bthrough them when he  
noticed that his companion had neither  
eaten nor drunk anything and was  
staring past him to the street beyond  
the big window.  
  
"Hey, Frase, what's the problem ? You look like you haven't slept  
in days,  
you haven't touched your food and even your hat looks crumpled-"  
  
Ray got no further for the Mountie jumped up suddenly and ran from the  
diner.  
  
Ray threw some cash onto the table and followed, "Hey, what's going  
on?" as  
the adrenalin started to flow.  
This was what being with Fraser was all about, the surprises, the spontaneity  
of it all. It was thrilling, better by far than any white knuckle ride.  
People paid big bucks to get that feeling he got for free just by hanging  
out  
with the Mountie.  
  
The street outside was chaotic with noise and people and the detective  
could  
not see his friend. He looked around suspiciously, a feeling  
of trepidation  
gnawed at him, something was wrong. He drew his gun,  
instinctively, reached  
into his pocket for his identification,   
The sounds of the people around were  
loud yet he could not make sense  
of their words. They were gathering to look  
at something. Ray felt  
his chest tighten, his throat constrict.  
  
"No," he whispered, raising the hand with the badge and pushing  
himself  
through the tight wedge of bodies.  
  
Then louder, "Police, coming through."  
His instincts were right, at the front of the crowd now he could see  
what the  
focus of attention was. On the floor a body, blue jean,  
plaid shirt; Fraser.  
  
"Has anyone called for help ?"  
He was relieved to hear an affirmative from a woman with a cellphone.  
Too  
concerned with the condition of his friend to ask what had happened,  
Ray  
crouched down and put a tentative finger to the Mounties throat.  
A pulse  
throbbed strongly. Ray let out his breath in relief. Benton  
opened his eyes,  
roused by the gentle touch.  
"Ray ?"  
  
Kowalski smiled, "You're gonna be just fine Frase. So long as you  
don't  
move."  
  
"I don't understand it," Fraser replied as his eyes slid shut.  
"That never  
happened before."  
  
As the paramedics came Ray stood up and addressed the thinning crowd,  
"Okay,  
can someone tell me what happened here ?"  
  
  
When Benton recovered consciousness in the hospital it was to the presence  
of  
Margaret Thatcher, sitting in a chair next to the bed dozing.  
He wondered  
how long he had been there and what sort of injuries  
he had sustained. He  
quickly checked through his body; there was  
not a joint that did not ache and  
there was a fuzziness about his  
head that no amount of shaking would clear.  
Further examination revealed  
a casted arm which was too painful to move and  
some bandages round  
his middle indicating bruised or broken ribs. There  
seemed to be  
no bullet holes so that was a mercy. He pulled himself painfully  
into sitting position and cast about for something to drink. From his  
frequent hospital stays of the past he knew he could not be very seriously  
ill  
because there were no drips attached to his arms and no tubes  
issuing from any  
embarassing places either.  
  
  
At that moment he was unable to recall the events that had led him to  
being  
hospitalised and besides he was far too weary to think about  
it. One thing he  
did recall was that he and the Inspector had fallen  
out so he was surprised at  
her presence in this hospital room, with  
him. How long had she been there ?  
He figured it must have been  
quite a long time for her to have fallen asleep  
and he wondered if  
it would be politic to try to awaken her.  
  
His father's voice prevented him from reaching a decision, "Hello  
son, bad  
judgement."  
  
Benton shook his head, "I'm sorry ?"  
  
"Trying to push that child away from the path of that car, it was  
bad  
judgement. I've told you before, your reflexes aren't as good  
when you get  
older and neither is your eyesight."  
  
The younger Mountie scowled and rubbed a thumb along his eyebrow, "My  
eyesight  
is just fine, after all I can see you."  
  
"I tried to warn you," Fraser Senior continued as if his son  
had not spoken,  
"But you never listen to my good advice, oh  
no. You have to be a hero."  
  
"Dad, I can't remember what I did that got me in this pickle.   
I am more  
concerned about her, " He nodded in the direction  
of the Inspector.  
  
"She's your superior officer, son. These things aren't meant to  
be."  
  
"She's having a baby. Well, our baby, that is."  
  
"Oh, you've made me a grandfather at last," the apparition  
smiled  
inscrutably, "and what are you going to do about it ?"  
  
Benton looked down at the bedsheets, ran his tongue along his lips and  
thought  
for a few moments before answering,  
"I'd really like to get married."  
  
There was no fatherly retort so he looked up into the astonished face  
of  
Margaret Thatcher who, it seemed, had chosen entirely the wrong  
moment to wake  
from her slumber. She froze in the action of ringing  
for a nurse. It was, in  
fact, the voice of Fraser talking to his  
father that had roused her.  
  
"What, what did you say ?" she demanded, gruffly as was her  
way, plumping up  
a pillow as a distraction.  
  
Benton started guiltily. But looking at her tousled and ruffled as she  
was,  
he did find her very appealing and that thought brought a smile  
to her face.  
How could she frighten him any more ? After what they  
had been to each other.  
That accident had brought him to his senses  
and made him realise that nothing  
in the world meant more to him  
than her.  
  
The concerned look on her face belied the harshness in her voice. He  
looked  
down to the hand that unconsciously covered his own and moved  
his uninjured  
hand over to clasp it and raise it to his lips. He  
kissed her fingers  
without saying a word.  
  
"I was.....worried about you, Constable." She smiled at him.  
remembering a  
time not so very long ago when she had spoken similar  
words,  
"And I'm sorry about that silly argument. When I heard  
you had been hurt I  
thought I had lost you forever and I couldn't  
bear it. I hadn't realised how  
much you meant to me until Ray called  
me to tell me you were in the ER. I had  
not realised how much I  
...........loved you."  
The last two words were a whisper as if she were afraid to admit it.  
" But  
you did not answer my question. What were you saying,  
before ?"  
  
Benton considered a moment, dare he say it ? She had admitted her love  
for  
him possibly at great cost to her pride. He should not let pride  
rule his own  
heart. She had come to the hospital to be with him,  
for that he was grateful.  
Their relationship was not going to be  
a smooth one, he being the sort of  
person he was, self sufficient,  
self contained, idiosyncratic, bookish,  
chivalrous, all the qualities  
that had been instilled in him by his  
grandparent's. She was more  
gregarious but also self sufficient in her own  
way. And very determined,  
he admired that. There was an understanding  
between them, and a  
magic. he couldn't deny it. There was definitely some  
sort of magic.  
So he came to his decision and with three magic words he  
dispensed  
with the need for wonderful lamps and grotesque genies and chose to  
forge his own path and his own destiny with the woman he loved.  
  
  
The End 1998  
  
Do not reproduce without the author's permission.  
  
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